


hot hot summer

by clearlykero



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearlykero/pseuds/clearlykero
Summary: "It's been a while." Natsuya digs his toes into the wet sand, burying them until the waves swirl over his feet and leave them uncovered once more. "Since high school, I think.""Since high school… what?""The last time I lost," says Natsuya, with a great heave of breath.





	hot hot summer

**Author's Note:**

> for a sportsfest br4 [prompt](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/11674.html?thread=2202778#cmt2202778) . like I said in the thread, nothing really happens HAHAH

"It's such a waste," says Rin, "that you're not competing properly. Natsuya-san."

Japan is sweltering hot at this time of year. It isn't as bad as Australian heat, at least, but his clothes are still sweat-damp and the remnants of a suika bar linger stickily on his fingers. The pool calls him all the time in summer— he can almost understand Haru's old penchant for diving into any body of water available. Natsuya, wearing only a threadbare muscle tee, seems like he isn't bothered in the slightest.

"Properly, huh?" A tiny crab scuttles out of its hole in the sand and promptly bumps into Natsuya's foot. He looks down, watching it investigate the new obstacle in its path. "Depends on your definition of properly."

"I mean the Olympics, of course." Rin wonders if he can ask the question he wanted to ask two years ago, when they first met in Sydney. Maybe by now Natsuya trusts him enough to skip the dissembling. 

"What will the Olympics give me that I can't get now?"

"Well," Rin starts, then pauses, flustered. It's probably impolite to say that's a stupid question, but it is undeniably a stupid question. "Strong opponents? Fame? More money?" He bites down the  _ fulfillment  _ that wants to push its way out of his mouth. He doesn't want to be cruel.

The crab, having taken a liking to Natsuya's feet, is now busily digging another hole between two of his splayed toes. It spits out pellets behind itself every so often. Natsuya's toes flex in the sand, but he doesn't move any more than that. Rin looks away, in front of them, at the brilliant glitter of the westward sea.

"I've got money, don't want fame, and I'm not lacking for strong opponents," Natsuya replies, after a time. Something about his eyes looks a little different from before; Rin can't tell what it is. 

"But you haven't tested yourself against real athletes—" Rin closes his mouth when Natsuya turns his head, a sharp grin on his face.

"Haven't I?" he asks, easily enough, but Rin is observant enough to see where he's liable to cut himself if he isn't careful what he says next. He wonders why he's the only one to get this version of Natsuya. He's seen the one Sousuke gets. Friendly, inspirational captain. Not at all like the strange person before him who gets drunk on the coin of younger men and visits Rin with souvenirs from what seems like every last corner of the world. 

_ I should feel special,  _ Rin thinks, in an attempt to console himself, but all he feels is frustration.

"I thought about it, before," says Natsuya. He nudges the crab with his big toe. It clicks its little pincers and disappears into its hole. "I had dreams, you know?"

Rin keeps quiet with some effort. Natsuya glances at him, then walks forward enough that the tide laps curiously at his feet. Iwatobi beach is uncrowded even at the height of summer, so there's no one around to share in Rin's secret fascination at the way the evening sun turns Natsuya's hair into a lucent halo fluffed out around his head. His own hair is stubbornly straight no matter what he does.

Rin drags his eyes away to look at the sky, gauging the time. It will get dark soon, and he'll have to go home to where Gou is attempting to cook dinner. He's hidden all the supplement containers, but there's always the possibility he missed something. So he doesn't want to leave, and he tells himself it's because of that and not because he's hopelessly enthralled.

"Dreams?" Rin can't help himself when Natsuya shows no sign of continuing the conversation. 

"Like yours right now, probably."

"The world stage," Rin says, sure of it, and is rewarded with Natsuya's radiant grin. It fades quickly, though, back into the puzzling expression from earlier.

"When was the last time you lost to someone, Matsuoka?"

Silence, while Rin thinks about it and discards practice races because they don't count.  _ Haru,  _ he thinks first, but their last match-up was two meets ago and he won, so it must have been— 

"Sousuke," he says, "at the club thing last month."

Natsuya had been there too, he remembers, with Serizawa. He'd thought Natsuya had come for Ikuya, but Ikuya (and Haru) hadn't even been participating. No, he'd been there for Sousuke… and Rin.

"That was a good race," Natsuya says, stretching like he'd been the one to swim it. The hem of his shirt rides up, and Rin very carefully doesn't look at any skin that may or may not have been revealed. 

"Sousuke got lucky."

"He's a lucky guy." The tone of Natsuya's voice suggests he isn't really thinking about Sousuke when he says this.  _ Makoto said Serizawa-san had a problem with his eyes,  _ Rin thinks, and frantically casts around for something else to say.

"What about you?" he tries. At this, Natsuya's shoulders slump.

"It's been a while." Natsuya digs his toes into the wet sand, burying them until the waves swirl over his feet and leave them uncovered once more. "Since high school, I think."

"Since high school… what?"

"The last time I lost," says Natsuya, with a great heave of breath, like it's something he's never admitted to anyone before. Maybe he hasn't. It can't possibly be true. And yet Rin looks at the way Natsuya stands, tense, almost nervous— Natsuya has never struck him as a liar. Just prone to avoidance. 

"That's because we never finished our match," Rin tells him, in an attempt at levity.

"No," and it's a long, despondent sigh, "I was playing with you. I play with everyone, these days." He says play but he doesn't sound like he's enjoying it at all.

"Well, that's why you should try for—"

"You know," Natsuya interrupts, before Rin can even shape the O of Olympics, "I went to Mikhail back then because he was an inspiration to me. But more than that I just— I just wanted a challenge again."

Rin doesn't say anything. There isn't anything to say. Except  _ Olympics,  _ which Natsuya clearly doesn't want to hear.

"I wanted to be the best," says Natsuya, softly. "And then I was."

A sea eagle cries out in the sky above them. It's gliding in loose circles, riding the end-of-the-day thermals, going nowhere. Rin takes a step forward and reaches out to put his hand on Natsuya's arm, not really knowing why. His skin is almost feverishly hot.

"You're scared." Rin says it in a quiet voice, like he did with his sister when they were young and she was afraid of the non-existent ghosts in the kitchen cupboards.  _ It's not scary,  _ he would say.  _ It's only your imagination. _

Natsuya looks at him sharply. Rin drops his hand, all at once feeling self-conscious.

"Maybe I am," Natsuya answers, at last. "But the Olympics are a no, Matsuoka. It's too late, and besides, I'm not about to ruin things for my baby brother. They should focus on the right Kirishima."

_ You are the right Kirishima,  _ Rin wants to say, but he doesn't know if it's influenced by his childish rivalry with Ikuya or the weird attraction he feels to Natsuya so he keeps his mouth shut, only nodding his acknowledgment. Natsuya smiles at him again, fits his elbow on Rin's shoulder like old times. "Take me to dinner?"

"Come home with me," Rin says, before he can think about it properly. At Natsuya's raised eyebrows, he flushes pink. "I mean— dinner! My sister's cooking!"

"Oh, your sister? What an honour." Natsuya slides his arm the rest of the way around Rin's shoulders, pulling him close. "I'd much rather you fed me, though."

"Breakfast," Rin says, trying not to squirm away from Natsuya's heat. It's a little sticky and uncomfortable, and it's hard to walk, but he can't bring himself to push Natsuya away when the guy has just spilled his guts for Rin to inspect.

"I'll hold you to that," says Natsuya. His fingers grip the sleeve of Rin's shirt like Rin would run otherwise.

Rin isn't the one who runs away, but he won't say that. "Tomorrow morning," he says instead, and he slips his own arm around Natsuya's waist. It isn't a friendly sort of touch, but Natsuya has been giving him a cornucopia of mixed signals since the day they met. He'd better deal with it.

Natsuya leans into him, not saying a word, and they walk like that all the way back to Rin's house, where Natsuya immediately secures his sister's good favour by calling her Kou-chan, assuring her that supplement cooking is a brilliant idea, and then they discover they own the same muscle magazines, and from there it's a lost cause. 

Rin doesn't know if he even believes that Natsuya is really that overwhelmingly better than all the other swimmers he knows. It seems like a delusion, and yet— it's Natsuya. If there was anyone Rin would believe this of, it's him. Rin wants him to prove himself and prove he's not just talk, to come to the Olympic stage and swim in the lane next to Rin's, to beat him in a fair match if Natsuya dares to say he's playing again. He wants a great many things from Natsuya.

"Eat your protein spaghetti, Rin," says Natsuya. Rin swallows.  _ Rin.  _ He knows it's because they're at his family home and there are two other Matsuokas, but.

"Okay, Natsuya," Rin says, daringly, and when Natsuya's returning grin is nothing but appreciative, Rin thinks he could almost forget everything else he wants just to keep this Natsuya, always.


End file.
